


Drop Him

by ThornyHedge



Category: The Hobbit (2012) RPF
Genre: M/M, Male Slash, h/c
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-04
Updated: 2013-02-05
Packaged: 2017-11-28 03:55:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/669991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThornyHedge/pseuds/ThornyHedge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aidan is injured performing a stunt during filming.  Additionally, his relationship with Dean is exposed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Very Jack Nicholson

“I said… drop him!” Aidan held two hands out in front of him like he was wielding a broad sword and swung the invisible weapon around threateningly.

Dean squinted, appraising. “That’s the entire scene?” They were in Dean’s trailer going over lines after Sunday brunch.

“Well, I yell ‘drop him,’ and then I repeat it, more forcefully,” Aidan explained. “Oh, and before saying it, I get to smack some trolls in the ankles. When I’m done, the trolls throw Martin at me. He lands on top of me and knocks me down. Then the Dwarven cavalry swoops in.”

Dean nodded. “Well, at least you’re getting screen time.”

“That’s what I said,” Aidan smiled. “So, would you swing the sword like this?” he made like he was Obi-wan Kenobi, “or more like this?” he did a one handed twirl, off to the side. In Dean’s mind, it made an impressive whooshing sound.

“The bad-ass one-handed twirl,” Dean said with finality, grinning. “No contest. But do the twirl before ‘I said, drop him’. Dramatic pauses are good. And keep the face. Very Jack Nicholson.”

“You’re a genius!” Aidan threaded his hand into Dean’s curls and pulled him in for a kiss. 

“I don’t relish the idea of Martin lying on top of you, though,” Dean pulled away, pouting. 

Aidan rolled his eyes and proceeded to use his mouth to convince Dean that he had nothing to be jealous of. The scripts were soon long forgotten.

\--------

They ran the mini-stunt three times on the sound stage before actually filming. Martin, as Bilbo, would not in fact be thrown by an actual troll—even though that’s exactly what it would look like in post-production. He would, instead, run full tilt at Kili and leap, catching him across the chest and knocking him to the ground. The crew had placed some padding at the spot where the two actors were to land. Martin and Aidan were lying there now in fact, laughing their asses off. 

“We’d better get this shot on the first take,” Martin joked. “I think our petite flower is starting to wilt.” He offered Aidan his hand to help him to his feet.

“You’re a lot heavier than a real Halfling,” Aidan smiled, accepting the hand and allowing Martin to pull him up. “Take it a little easier this time?” His ribs actually were a little sore from the impacts.

Hair and make-up swooped in to straighten them both up.

“There are no real Halflings, Turner!” Martin took what he thought was a powerful stance. “This time I’m going rugby on your ass.”

“Let’s roll film on this one!” Peter Jackson ordered. 

Aidan grinned at Martin. He was having the time of his life, and so, it would appear, was the Brit. He couldn’t wait to hear that magic word.

“And… action!”

Aidan slipped easily into Kili and hefted his sword. He charged through the fake foliage with a war cry and began whacking at the fake “troll legs” that had been set up there: once, twice. Then he backed up a few feet and ordered, in what he hoped was a forceful tone, “Drop him!”

Aidan paused a beat as one of Jackson’s assistants read the troll’s line, “You wot?”

“I said,” and side-twirled the sword menacingly, summoning up his best Jack Nicholson face, “drop him!”

There were no more lines. That was Martin’s cue and Aidan braced for impact. As he saw Martin hurtling towards him, and he was dropping his sword, he noticed he was about a foot behind his normal mark. _I hope this doesn’t mess up the take_ , Aidan remembered thinking, as Martin slammed into him. He went hurtling backwards with the force of Martin’s impact. True to his word, Freeman had tackled him harder than before. The landing wasn’t nearly as graceful, either. Aidan’s head and shoulders collided with something hard and he saw stars. His hands fell away from the load of Englishman in his arms and he let out a groan that only Martin could hear as from all around them, the rest of the dwarves whooped and roared through the underbrush, charging in to attack the trolls.

“Kili?” When Aidan didn’t stir, Martin, still in character, brought his hands up to cup both sides of the younger actor’s face. Aidan raised his eyes to Freeman’s face and tried to focus. Martin wasn’t smiling, and the fear in his eyes wasn’t Bilbo’s. Aidan’s head throbbed and the stage spun beneath him. “Aidan?!” Martin shook him, but Aidan could already feel himself slipping into the darkness that encroached on his vision. 

“Help!” Martin leapt up. “We need a doctor!” but his voice was lost in the melee of Khudzul epithets and clattering swords. Martin ran directly to the source. “Peter!” he yanked off Jackson’s headphones. “Aidan’s hurt. We need medical!”

“Cut!” Jackson hollered. “All lights up!” 

Martin ran immediately back to Aidan’s side. Aidan hadn’t moved and his eyes were closed. Martin couldn’t remember ever having seen Aidan so pale, even the morning after he’d won a drinking match against Graham McTavish. “Aidan!” he knelt and reached behind the brunet’s head to feel for a lump. He gasped, and pulled out a hand covered in blood instead.

“Aid! Oh my god!” Dean was kneeling on Aidan’s other side. “What happened, Martin?”

“I-I must have tackled him too hard,” Martin’s voice shook. “We missed the edge of the padding and his head hit this log when I landed on him,” tears were forming in Martin’s eyes. He raised his vision and caught Peter’s eyes. “This is my fault, Peter!”

Dean was holding Aidan’s slack hand in his own. “Aidan,” he caressed the side of Aidan’s wan face, hoping to rouse him. “Aidan, please be okay,” he kissed Aidan’s forehead and his lips lingered. A few of the cast murmured in surprise. Although they had suspected Dean and Aidan might be romantically involved, this is the first time it had been publicly confirmed. “What?” Dean looked up at them. “Back off, you gobs! Give him some air!”


	2. Âzyungâl

“We should straighten out his neck, clear his airway,” Adam insisted.

“We shouldn’t move him at all,” Dean told him tersely. “He hit his head and neck. No one’s touching him right now. Let the medics decide whether to move him or not, and how to do it.” The look in Dean’s eyes made it very clear that there was no arguing with him.

Adam backed off contritely to stand near Richard. Martin, on the other hand, wouldn’t leave Aidan’s other side. “I don’t know what went wrong, Dean,” he said softly. “We practiced several times. You saw.”

“I did,” Dean told him. “Martin, we all signed the forms before boot camp. We knew we could get hurt,” he clamped a reassuring hand over the worried actor’s shoulder. “I’d just feel a hell of a lot better if he were talking.”

Martin nodded in agreement.

Fortunately, as they were filming on set in Wellington, hired medical personnel were always nearby. It took less than five minutes for a pair of med techs to arrive in an ambulance. A native New Zealander, Dean recognized the woman as being of Māori descent. She was petite with dark hair and skin the color of caramel. “I’m Meri,” she told them. “This is Rodger,” she tilted her head towards her partner, a tall redhead carrying a backboard and medical kit. “Can you tell us what happened to him?”

“We were filming a stunt,” Martin stood. “I was to run at him and tackle him, and we were supposed to land on that padding there,” he pointed at the green gymnasium mat. “We missed,” his voice broke, “and his head hit that log. I mean, it’s a fake log. Everything here is. But it’s hard enough. It knocked him out. He’s been like this ever since.”

“His head’s bleeding, in the back,” Dean added, stroking Aidan’s cheek with the palm of his hand.

“All right,” Rodger patted Dean on the back. “I’ll have to ask you to move so we can assess. I’m sorry.”

Dean nodded and stepped away. Martin immediately moved to comfort him, but Dean only had eyes for Aidan.

Rodger knelt and placed the backboard next to Aidan’s supine form. Then he opened the kit. Meri put on a pair of latex gloves and palpitated the back of Aidan’s head. He didn’t stir. She shone a penlight in both Aidan’s eyes. Then, slowly and carefully, she felt his neck and face for injuries. When she got to his ears, she gasped. “These are fake, right?”

Dean nodded. “Nose too. They come off fairly easily, if you need to.”

“Nah, looks like the worst of it’s on the back of his head. We’re good. Rog, give me a pressure bandage,” he did, and she slipped it behind Aidan’s head, “and the roll.” Meri wrapped the roll of gauze three times around Aidan’s head to hold the bandage in place. “His neck seems fine, and he’s breathing on his own.”

“As he’s unconscious, we’re obligated to take him to hospital,” Rodger explained to the actors. “The emergency doctors will probably order an MRI. They’ll get him sorted out, don’t worry. Did you want to ride along?” he asked Dean.

“Yeah,” Dean nodded, as Meri and Rodger rolled Aidan onto his left side, slid the backboard under him and settled him onto it.

Meri got out a cervical collar and wrapped it around Aidan’s neck. Dean’s eyes grew fearful. “It’s just a precaution, for travel,” she tried to allay his concerns. “The roads near this warehouse are dreadful.”

“Call us when you have an update,” Peter told Dean. “I’ll join you as soon as I can get away.”

“Will do, Peter,” Dean agreed, watching as Meri and Rodger hefted the backboard onto a stretcher and rolled it to the waiting ambulance.

“Try to get rid of as much of your costume as you can before getting out of the ambulance,” Peter cautioned. “Don’t want too many looky-loos and paparazzi hassling you.”

Up to that point, Dean had forgotten he was in costume. Nothing mattered but Aidan. But he understood Peter’s concern. He crawled into the back of the ambulance behind Meri and his boyfriend. With a brief wave to Martin, Peter and very concerned looking Richard, the back door was closed and Rodger eased the ambulance off the sound stage and out into the daylight.

Meri used an alcohol swab on the back of Aidan’s hand and inserted an IV. “The fluids help with swelling. If he has a concussion, which seems to be the case, it’ll make him feel better when he wakes up, too,” she explained, catching his eye. “Nice hair, by the way. I’m guessing most of it’s not really yours.”

“Heh, no,” Dean smiled back at her. He proceeded to begin removing the braids and prosthetics, trying to honor Peter’s request. He also ditched his heavy outer coats and weapons. “Can you keep those safe somewhere? I’ll come get them, I promise,” he sniffed, using a fingernail to scratch at an itchy patch of glue under his nose.

“Of course,” she nodded. “Don’t worry. I won’t sell them on EBay or anything.”

Normally, Meri would have been the type of person he’d love to knock back a few beers with. She was quick, snarky and cute. But he was so concerned about Aidan he could barely draw breath. Just taking Aidan’s cold hand in his and rubbing it with his thumb served to calm his nerves. “How far is the hospital?” he asked her.

“We’re nearly there,” she told him. “Good thing you guys weren’t out on location.”

Dean’s stomach lurched at that possibility, and he bit his lip. “Do you—” he began, but his throat closed off before he could continue. He cleared his throat and restarted, “Do you think he’ll be all right?”

“I do,” she assured him. “He just took a knock, is all. He’ll be up and around in no time.”

Dean nodded. “Okay. You’re gonna to be okay, Aid,” he spoke to Aidan’s inert form, squeezing his hand.

* * *

Dean never got a chance to properly thank Rodger and Meri for their help. They expeditiously rolled Aidan away from him to an examining area he wasn’t allowed to enter. Dean, meanwhile had to go to a cubicle and talk to a nurse about what happened and how. He desperately wanted to be with Aidan, but the nurse assured him there simply wasn’t enough room in the E.R. for anyone except parents or spouses—and he, of course, was neither. He told the nurse that Aidan was his brother, which was partially true at least.

Finished answering questions, he was bade to wait with about eleven others in a public waiting room. He was ready to climb the walls, and was regretting leaving his swords behind, when Richard Armitage and Martin Freeman showed up in street clothes. Martin flung his arms around Dean and embraced him tightly.

“We got here as fast as we could,” Richard told him, cupping Dean’s face with one hand. “Traffic’s nasty. How’s our boy?”

“He was still unconscious when they wheeled him in. I haven’t heard anything since.” Dean suddenly felt dizzy, as if he had to sit down.

“I’ll get him some water,” he distantly heard Martin telling Richard. Dean felt a warm presence easing him into a chair and a solid arm come to rest over his shoulders.

“Same thing happened to me once,” Richard told him. “Sometimes bad news really can knock you right off your feet.”

Martin returned, sitting down on Dean’s other side and offering him a plastic cup full of cool water. A few sips had Dean feeling less queasy. He no longer felt like he might faint.

“So…” Richard squeezed his shoulder softly, “you and Aidan.”

“Yeah,” Dean nodded, not looking at either of them, “me and Aidan.”

“How long?”

“Awhile,” Dean admitted. “Couple months.”

“Told you,” Martin smiled at Richard and patted Dean’s knee. “You totally owe me 20 pounds.”

“Were we that obvious?” Dean wondered, smiling.

“Not to the untrained eye,” Martin blushed. “But I happen to have a little experience when it comes to being surreptitious about romantic involvement with my co-stars.”

Richard slipped him a few bills. “And you can use this 20 pounds to buy us all beer and tell us that story, when Aidan’s on the mend.”

The trio sat and chatted for some time before a nurse came to the door of the waiting room and called out, “Family of Aidan Turner?”

Dean’s head shot up. “That’s us!” He stood, pulling Martin and Richard along with him. He approached the nurse. “Can we see him?” She nodded, eyeing Martin and Richard questioningly. “They’re his uncles,” Dean explained.

“He woke briefly during the MRI. The results were good,” she said, leading them down a hallway. Richard could physically feel Dean’s body relax in relief. “The doctor can tell you more when he speaks with you. It’s Room 140. End of the hall. He does need his rest, so nothing taxing,” she warned.

Dean was off like a shot.

“He really loves his brother,” Martin explained to the nurse.

When the pair arrived at room 140, they found Dean perched at Aidan’s bedside, holding his hand. Aidan’s costume and makeup had been stripped away and replaced by a hospital gown. Martin found seeing Aidan like this more distressing than seeing an injured Kili. This made it seem all the more real. The room had two more chairs in it, so he and Richard sat in them, not disturbing Dean.

“Aidan?” Dean murmured in his boyfriend’s ear. “I’m here. Richard and Martin are too. You’re gonna be okay,” he repeated his promise from earlier. With his other hand, he explored the stark white bandage covering the top of Aidan’s head. Suddenly, Aidan’s hand closed around his.

He looked down into a pair of sleepy brown eyes. “Âzyungâl,” Aidan greeted him, “hi.”

“Hi,” Dean echoed, gently laying his forehead against Aidan’s.

“Was that Khuzdul?” Martin whispered in Richard’s ear. Richard nodded. “What’s it mean?”

“Look it up,” Richard told him.

The End

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, friends. I have never written RPF before this fandom took hold of me.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading. More soon!


End file.
